Today I would like to curate a flight you’ve probably never imagined. No barista course or sommelier training will teach you about the subject we will study today, but it is one all farmers know. Our barn is the staging area: it’s long and symmetrical, wood-paneled a la New Brunswick winter, weathered, rustic, unshakable as the hill it stands on. We swing through the little postern, and enter a palatial gallery, tall wooden doors marching down the length like theatre …
Tag: Beer
“Café Metafoor” * Fiction * Mike Lewis-Beck
I sat on a bar stool at the best beer pub in Leuven, not to say the best in all of Flanders, which means the best in Belgium, maybe the world. Of all the brews on offer at Café Metafoor, I chose the Affligem Dubbel, a dark malty ale, just sweet enough and strong enough, but not too strong. Like all true Belgian alehouses, no food was served, except for peanuts or chips, for the salt. I went for the …
Alley Cat * Creative Nonfiction * Michele Rappoport
The smell of fresh paint always takes me back to my first apartment in Washington, D.C., a three-room efficiency in a squat brick building that hissed like a radiator after a summer rainstorm. Somehow, I’d convinced my parents that living off campus would be cheaper my junior year. Maybe it was. But it was my yearning for a solo shot, a chance to prove my growing independence from them in a way I didn’t feel was possible living in the …
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“Eating Up History in Colonial Williamsburg” * Essay * Kate Chamberlin
For three days in 1999,we walked and ate our way through Colonial Williamsburg in Virginia! We Stepped back into the 18th Century, an era when our forefathers were on the cusp of revolution. We walked the paths and ate in the taverns where the American Revolution began and our new nation was born. Colonial Williamsburg is In the center of one of America’s most historic triangles. just southwest is Jamestown, where English colonization took root in 1607; southeast is Yorktown, …
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“Dumpster Lives” * Fiction * Yash Seyedbagheri
I like sorting through the dumpster behind my apartment every night. I inhale possibility and pungency, moldy cheddar cheese, dying pizzas. I examine discarded items with tenderness, even if I must crane my neck. There are boxes for flat screen TVs, crumpled cartons of Bud Light, blue and white arresting my eyes. Old newspapers. Styrofoam and crumpled cardboard. Discarded garbage cans. But there’s also a crumpled joint or two and a couple Michelina’s TV dinners with their soothing green boxes. …
“I Like Beer” * Flash Fiction * Yash Seyedbagheri
Nick thinks of beer. No, he dreams of beer. Hungover, ghost of six beers past churning in his corpulent stomach, that word sings, beer. Beer. En route to classes, a graduate student he thinks about beer. He conjures the amber ale of 90 Shillings, the bitter sour of a La Folies from New Belgium. He tries not to conjure beer, but after another lecture from his father, full of dissection, bad son, weak, too artistic, the beer calls. Drink me, …
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